


Cheers

by cactustipper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, M/M, One sided relationship, Spoilers, depression is one hell of a drug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cactustipper/pseuds/cactustipper
Summary: Robin has a lot of stressful things on his mind, and hopes a drink or two will help him relax.





	Cheers

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place before the Endgame and the confrontation at the Dragon's Table.

Robin stares at the dark brown bottle, rubbing his thumb along the side of its smooth, cool glass. It feels nice, the chilled temperature is something grounding, rather than the uncomfortable lukewarm stickiness of existing. Something different, really. It's nice.

His eyes move down to the bottle's label; it's white and blue, with a dancing… pirate? for lack of a better word, a mug in each of his hands, with foam from the drinks spilling and pooling around his boots. "Swashbuckler's," it reads in a compact font. Each letter has intricate designs that remind him of some typical pub at a port town, with people of all shapes and sizes wearing earrings, do-rags, horizontally-striped shirts, and being scarred in the strangest of places.

The vision makes him chuckle a bit, then he discards the thought before using the corner of his desk to pop the metal cap from the bottle. The drink fizzles, and he quickly catches the foam with his tongue before it can spill on the floor. The taste makes him cough; he isn't used to the tang of liquor.

Robin had drank a few times in the past, at celebrations with the Shepherds where everyone had a little something in their glass. He'd get lightly buzzed, but never much beyond that. He was way too much of a lightweight to go any further, as he had found out rather quickly.

Drinking heavily never really appealed to the tactician; he preferred to have his senses intact and and mind rational. Why willingly impair himself?

But still… Robin can see the allure of it. With how he's been feeling as of late, something to take the edge off was making him desperate. He hid it well from his comrades, but the toll it was taking was just getting harder and harder to bear.

He was slipping, and the last thing the army needed was their tactician to be mentally unwell. That would lead to the sloppy, unnecessary, horrifying loss of lives. His friends' lives. Chrom's life.

 _Chrom_. That old devil, Ylisse's Exalt with the blessing of Naga Herself. The exact opposite of Robin. He was the son of some twisted cult leader of Plegia who wanted to destroy the world by reviving the Fell Dragon.

And of _course_ , Chrom _had_ to be the one he's fallen for. Of _course_ , the leader of the country. Of _course_ , the commander of the army. Of _course_ , a married man with a family. Of _course_ , the only one that would see right through each and every one of Robin's masks. Of _course_ , the one Robin kills in his dreams every single night. Of course, of course, of _fucking_ course.

Exhaling, he tries to shove the thoughts away, for they'll drive him to insanity if he doesn't, and focuses on the bottle in his hands. He brings it up to his face and daintily takes a sniff. Oh Gods. Ew. Holy shit. Robin nearly flings the thing away, face scrunched in disgust at that awful stench. People willingly drink this stuff. Why. Gross.

He lets out a groan. This is silly. He's stalling. The unknown of being intoxicated scares him, the idea of being without control of his thoughts and actions.

But at the same time, Robin wants to check out from reality for awhile, and this seems to be the most promising way to do it.

Taking a breath, Robin brings the bottle to his lips and tips it back, forcing himself to take a gulp. He coughs from drinking too much too fast, as well as from forcing down that sharp, Godsawful taste.

The alcohol burns as he swallows it, flames licking at the back of his throat and up into his nostrils. It's an odd sensation, but once the taste wears off, he decides it's not entirely unpleasant. He tries for another sip, not as big as the first, intrigued at the fire it brings to his nerves. Sure, it tastes horrible, but… it's really _not_ that bad.

He gives himself a moment to let the booze take affect, not wanting to go overboard when he's only just started. Within ten minutes, his face feels warm and his vision sways whenever he moves his head. The dizziness isn't bad, though. It's light and fun, really. That thought on its own makes Robin laugh aloud.

Then he wonders what Chrom would think if he saw Robin like this. You know what? _Screw_ that guy, he's having the time of his life right now. He's enjoying himself, and Naga strike him down if there's something wrong with that. Hell, Chrom isn't a stranger to drinking, right? Maybe they could try it together sometime. Being bubbly and stupid with the man he's in love with? The idea makes his heart flutter in his chest; he knows what a goner he is for his best friend.

"Cheers," Robin says to no one in particular, then brings the bottle back to his lips.

 

   
"Robin?"

The voice rouses him from his unconscious state, and he creaks an eye open despite his body's protests.

Something's lifting the upper half of his body, and he groans at the physical exertion. He just wants to lay down.

Robin opens his eyes further, but everything is blurry and smeared. He blinks dazedly before the person above him comes into focus. Chrom.

That perks him up a bit, and Robin moves to sit up further. The sudden motion, however, brings him awareness of a dull ache in his arm, and he lets out a noise of pain.

"Gods, what _happened_ to you?" Chrom asks, concern thick in his tone. He carefully picks Robin up and carries him to his cot, bridal-style.

"What're you talkin' about," Robin says, finding it hard to control the slur in his words. Everything is foggy except for this _pain_ in his arm.

"You're _bleeding_." The Exalt narrows his eyes. He takes a sniff. "…Robin, have you been drinking?"

"Maaaay-be," his voice cracks, but Chrom doesn't seem too amused by this.

He lets out a sigh. "I'll be back in a moment. Stay still, alright?"

Robin wants to argue, but Chrom is already leaving his tent.

 

   
He wakes up to the throbbing in his arm, rather than the dull ache it was seconds(?) ago. He actually doesn't remember falling asleep.

Chrom is kneeling beside him, dabbing his arm with a damp washcloth. Even in the dark, Robin can make out the blood staining the rag, and he tries to recall what happened.

He racks his brain, but to no avail. Probably blacked out and hit the desk or something. He's dragged from his thoughts when Chrom switches from water to applying vulnerary, and Robin inhales sharply through clenched teeth at the sting of the herbs.

"I _knew_ something was going on."

Robin just barely catches it, as Chrom's voice is so quiet when he says it, despite the air being silent. He strains his ears as Chrom goes on.

"I _thought_ you weren't eating, and I _thought_ you weren't sleeping, and I _thought_ you were overworking yourself," he murmurs. "I _knew_ you had a lot on your mind, but I wasn't sure. I should've payed closer attention."

Robin cringes, and not because of the medicine.

"It's _my_ fault you're deteriorating like this." Chrom's eyes sparkle with tears that threaten to spill over.

"I can take care of myself," Robin croaks, realizing how stupid it sounds once he says it.

"Then why _don't_ you?" Chrom asks, his tone low yet even.

"I…" He doesn't have a response for that. "…I don't know."

"You know you can talk to me, _right?_ " A tear rolls down the Exalt's cheek. "We swore to be two halves of the same whole, didn't we?"

"Yes, I'm sorry. Please don't blame yourself," Robin pleads.

Chrom remains silent, and he knows the Exalt is beating himself up on the inside. Robin doesn't know where the courage comes from, but he can't contain it as it spills out.

"I love you, Chrom. I don't want to see you like this because of _me_."

Wait. Shit. Oh shit.

Chrom just blinks at him as his features harden, and Robin wants to turn invisible upon realizing what he's just said.

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"What am I supposed to say to that?"

Robin stops, caught off guard. "W-what?"

"What am I supposed to say to that?" Chrom repeats, furrowing his brows. He's completely shifted gears from dejection to… whatever _this_ is, and his gaze tears Robin apart.

"I…" Robin's throat tightens. "I don't know."

"Well I don't either," the Exalt says coldly. Ouch.

He stares at Chrom a moment, before pursing his lips and turning away, unable to bear his friend's(?) judgment. Chrom has a family, of _course_ he doesn't feel the same. He _knew_ that, so why did he just say _that_ out _loud?_   _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

They sit in heavy silence as Chrom continues to apply the vulnerary to Robin's arm, before wrapping it up in medical bandages.

He collects the supplies in his arms, standing up and moving to leave the tent.

Robin goes out on a limb and says a small, "Thank you."

He risks a peek over a shoulder, instantly regretting it when he does.

Chrom stands in the tent's entrance, the moon silhouetting his figure. Despite the shadows, Robin can make out the broken, exhausted expression he wears in the darkness.

"…You're welcome."

The Exalt lingers a moment longer, before taking his leave, disappearing into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> :^)
> 
> edit 8/1 - yo im glad you guys like it and wamt to read more. this almost could be a prelude to my other work "a conflict on interest." i may add chapters to this if i find inspiration to make an alternate ending? we ll see.
> 
> i appreciate the sweet comments!


End file.
